The End Of The Dance
by Cattleman
Summary: <html><head></head>What if Caxton hadn't fired as quickly? "SPOILERS FOR THE EL BAILE DE LA MUERTE ARC"</html>


_I don't own anything related to Black Lagoon._

It was all over.

Roberta stared at the lying, injured form of Garcia in front of her, who was being bandaged by a U.S soldier. She had shot him herself. After everything the late Master had done for her, taking her in, saving her from certain death and capture, and most of all, given her a family, she had shot his son. Shot her young master, the boy she had befriended and tended to since he was a young child, and who had come all the way here, to this edge of the world, to save her from insanity, only to be wounded by her bullet in a fit of her madness. She listened as the soldier finished bandaging Garcia.

"The slug grazed his liver and exited. I stopped the bleeding, but there's still a chance it could get infected."

She went back to her thoughts, blocking out everyone's talk. She had staked her own life to protect her young master, having headed to Roanapur to save him when he was kidnapped. She did not believe that she would wield a gun ever again since that chaotic night. Quite obviously, she was wrong.

_Perhaps I really am no more than a Bloodhound._

Violence was the background she was raised with, having been trained since her childhood to murder in the name of revolution. This family had rescued her from going down that bloody path, and most of all… Garcia. He had kissed her only minutes before. The first kiss she had ever had in her life. He was the light in her dark life. Without him, there would be absolutely no reason to live. He had shown her that kindness and friendship were still alive in the world. And he had shown her love.

"She and I…will carry him. Isn't that right?"

_Caxton._

The man speaking was the one who had ruined her life, the young master's life, and taken away the Master's life. She had embarked on a journey across the world to kill this man, yet she could no longer feel the urge to. Her young master had seen to that. Compassion was new to her. He would bear her burdens with her, he had said. There was no need to continue the Dance of Death. They would return to South America, but would they really be able to live life somewhat normally? The young master's father was dead, and all he had left were herself, Fabiola, and a host of business issues that his father would manage were he alive. No matter. She would bear his burdens with him just as he would with her. He more than deserved her commitment to him. The young master sat up, wincing at the pain of his wound, and she supported him as they both stood up from the ground. They were once again, close together, and despite the fact that she had raised Hell on Earth over the course of the last few days, she felt at peace as she held him. They would get through this together.

Then, a noise shattered her mind's silence. An all too familiar noise.

_Shchk._

"Shane. Step back."

She turned to see that another soldier was aiming at her with a rifle. She saw no emotion in his eyes, and realized immediately that there was nothing that could be said to this man to persuade him to lay down his arms.

But Caxton did not move.

"…Ray. It's all over. Put it down."

"…Shane. I... I wanted to be like you. But I couldn't. If she's getting out of here alive… where do I bury the memories of Sanchez and C.J…. and all those that died here?"

She remembered those men. They were some of the toughest she had ever fought. One had even managed to shoot her in the arm. That one had the eyes of a mad wolf, one who knew he was going to die, but fought until the end. All those men, trained to kill like she was, basked in the glory of victories throughout their lives, and then meeting their violent, bloody fates far away from their homes.

Though they had killed the Master, she felt the slightest twinge of remorse. She listened as the soldier, Ray, as he was named, addressed Garcia.

"…Kid. I can't figure it out. Whose fault is it? Who's… to blame?"

A tense silence ensued. No one moved. Ray's rifle was still trained on her, his finger ready to pull the trigger. Resigned to her possible fate, Roberta looked down at the young master, thoughts of their time in the past, when the Master was alive and well, when she tasted freedom for the first time in her life, and when she and Garcia walked together in the Lovelace Manor's garden, exhibiting the beauty of the flower blooms, filled her mind. She took a deep breath.

A shot broke through the quiet, followed immediately by another. Her eyes widened. She was already prepared for the hot, piercing impact that had just struck her chest. She managed to get a glimpse of Caxton, lowering his smoking assault rifle from a dead Ray's direction before she fell to the ground. She heard Fabiola and Garcia scream.

"Head matron!"

"Roberta! NO!"

She laid on the ground, her breaths ragged. She did not want to go. Not for fear of death, but because of the young master. She did not want to leave him. The pain was immense, and judging by the fact that she was losing a large amount of blood despite having been shot only seconds before, the bullet had pierced her somewhere near her heart. She heard the rustling of men running towards her as a despairing Caxton screamed orders at his men.

"Stop the bleeding! Quickly!"

She felt the soldiers tending to her wounds. Blood continued to flow from her and soak her clothing as her vision began to blur, but she desperately tried to hold on. This fight to stay conscious would be her final battle. As the soldiers bloodied their hands in the effort to stop the bleeding, one person was her only concern in the world.

…_Master Garcia…_

The only thing that mattered to her now was how Garcia would face the problems in his life now that his father, and soon she, would be gone. She stared up at him. He was standing over her, next to Fabiola. Both of them were crying. She examined every detail of his appearance. He was a flawless young man. Handsome, loving, intelligent… she felt honored to have served a master like him. Her eyes locked with Garcia's, and she allowed herself to be lost within them. She would never be able to help the young master now. Sorrow clawed desperately at her heart. So this was retribution.

"Cyrus! How is she?"

"Major… not good, the bleeding isn't stopping. I…I don't think she'll-"

"STAY WITH US ROBERTA!"

Already, she was beginning to black out, but the scream of her young master brought her back. The soldiers had backed off, and now Garcia and Fabiola were kneeling by her side. She became aware that Garcia had his hands closed over her bleeding wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Using the last of her strength, she brought a weak hand to his wrist, trying to stop him.

"Y-young… master…"

Garcia grabbed her hand and held it tightly, his tears flowing rapidly, the crimson on both of their hands merging. Behind him, Fabiola bowed her head, her tears quietly dripping into the soil.

"ROBERTA! PLEASE DON'T GO! YOU CAN'T DIE! PLEASE DON'T-"

But Garcia's cries were silenced as she held his hand against her face. The time was dangerously close and she could feel it. She spoke to him, softly, sadness in her voice as tears flowed from her eyes as well. She will never be with him.

"Young… master…?"

He answered her between his cries.

"…Ro- Roberta…?"

She examined him once more, his golden hair, his beautiful eyes, his flawless features, and though she lay dying, the memories of her time in the Lovelace Manor, of her time with him, were still strong in her mind. A smiling, cheerful mustached man, a beautiful flower, a gloriously sunlit garden, sleeping weapons of glory mounted on the wall, a smiling boy with golden hair. Her eyes began to fill with tears of mixed joy and sorrow. Now, the young master had only Fabiola, but they could make it together. She knew that her young master, her beloved Garcia, would survive. He was strong. A smile formed on her peaceful face as she remembered the passionate warmth of his lips against hers, and she uttered her final words to the boy she loved.

"Th-thank you… for… everything."

And with that final statement, the woman born as Rosarita Cisneros, who lived as the Bloodhound of Florencia, then was reborn as Roberta, the maid of the Lovelace Family, died as Roberta, with the boy who had saved her from the darkness of violence beside her.

Garcia held her tightly in his arms, weeping, listening to her final breaths, a pale, teary-eyed Fabiola at his side. He heard her breaths stop, and with all the sorrow in his heart, screamed her name at her unresponsive form, hoping for a miracle, hoping for something to bring her back to him.

"ROBERTA!"

Behind them, a greatly remorseful Shane Caxton looked on. He felt infinite hurt for the boy. First, he had taken his father's life, and now, the young woman who had guided him since he was a young child was gone as well, all because of his own actions, committed in the name of the "greater good". He had also taken Ray's life. Ray, who had saved his life, back in a time so long ago, in that village… And though the now-deceased Roberta did massacre most of his unit, he nevertheless felt sad at her death. A violent life, ended violently.

He walked over to Garcia and Fabiola, and despite feeling that he had no right to do so, put his hand on Garcia's shoulder, attempting to comfort him.

"I'm… sorry it came to this… if I had shot sooner…I …"

Garcia gave no response. He was hunched over Roberta's lifeless form, silently weeping over his forever gone best friend. Fabiola, next to him, however, looked into Caxton's eyes. Her eyes held the energetic, young fury of a Bloodhound, a being ready to kill and dance in bloodshed. But Caxton merely stared back, not feeling any fear. He hoped that eventually, someone would rid him of his life as well. He had caused too much pain for too many people. It would only be fair to end his violent life violently as well.

He turned away from her and walked to his men, ordering them to carry the body of the deceased girl to the boat. But Garcia would not move, and neither would Fabiola. The pair remained by the side of their fallen friend. Fabiola, agonized in her thoughts as she lamented the Head Matron's passing, and Garcia's sorrows too much for him to bear as he weeped, and planted a last kiss on Roberta's cold lips.

In death, illuminated under the sky, the Bloodhound was no longer tormented. No longer a victim of the memories which scarred her. At last, she was free.

_Sorry, but I just had to write this : (. Roberta was always my favorite character in this series, and I'd always wondered what would have happened if Caxton had not killed Ray as quick as he did in volume 9. Read and review!_


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